


Le Roman du Bleuet

by SnowyWolff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Courtly Love, F/M, Medieval Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 22:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: Romano leaned on his halberd, bored at his station in front of the gardens. Nothing ever happened there, not beyond the furtive lord and lady sneaking off together, though Romano always pretended not to notice. Courtly romance, illicit or true, was no business of his.***And as true as that may be, other genres were surely applicable.





	Le Roman du Bleuet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gnostic_heretic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnostic_heretic/gifts).

> Written for Ivan 💜💜💜 
> 
> More details on that [here](https://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com/post/186676440242/title-le-roman-du-bleuet-pairing-belarussouth)

Romano leaned on his halberd, bored at his station in front of the gardens. Nothing ever happened there, not beyond the furtive lord and lady sneaking off together, though Romano always pretended not to notice. Courtly romance, illicit or true, was no business of his.

No. They were of no interest to him, and he pretended to be particularly interested in a patch of dirt near his feet as a giggling couple disappeared within the hedgerows.

Romano wished he could have fetched guard duty in the hall. If there weren’t audiences with the king, there would be gossip to listen into. Though, he supposed, the latest gossip had bothered him more than that it had entertained.

As of late, all gossip had pertained the Lady Natalya. No one quite knew where she came from or what she was a lady of, but no one dared to challenge her status either. Something about her was undeniably regal.

The court had offered her shelter after her arrival, soaking wet, one stormy night, though she had yet to leave (and to allow a lady to travel unaccompanied, even one as distrusted as her, was unheard of).

For a rather short-lived week, the prince and a few lords had attempted to court her, but their affections slid off of her like water. Her cold disposition was soon attributed to rumours of womanly vices and, more recently, of witchcraft.

But Romano, those few times he had accompanied her to the dining hall or her chambers, had only gotten the impression she preferred quiet company over inane chatter and empty flattery.

In a way, he felt she was justified.

Romano tugged at his collar. It was a hot, cloudless day and the sun had finally climbed the castle to bask him in its warmth. Shifting uncomfortably in his armour, he caught a glimmer of something not quite silver and not quite gold, but equally ethereal.

Something about Lady Natalya always appeared to shimmer, be it her dress, her hair, or her eyes.

The midnight blue of her dress, as uncommon a dye but beautifully saturated, was magnificent in its grandeur, with little details of silver woven in that made it glitter like the night sky. Today, she wore her hair loose, trailing behind her in a silver-golden flow, with a single jewelled hair pin that caught the sun.

Yet, it were her eyes that truly captivated a man’s heart.

Like his.

“My lady,” he said as she passed, bowing his head.

He had expected her to ignore him and continue her walk, but instead, she paused. Her gaze was as cool and unyielding as always, but to his confusion, she held out her arm as if waiting for him to offer his own.

“Sir Romano,” she said, voice as smooth and rustic as a babbling brook. “Would you be willing to accompany me through the gardens?”

Despite her direct address, he still couldn’t quite believe his turn of fate. “Me?”

“Yes.” He thought he saw her lips twitch into a smile. “I’d be honoured.”

“The honour would be all mine.” Yet still he hesitated. His duty did require some deliberation, after all. But, there was no one here, and no one would bother to infiltrate the gardens, so he hid his halberd in the hedge and offered his arm to her.

Her hand slotted into the crook of his elbow, a firm presence despite its dainty appearance and, Romano noted, without a ring to speak of. Her walk was purposeful, not coy, with her head held high. She did not, in any way, dally.

She seemed to know exactly where she wanted to go, somehow evading all the turns that would surely cause a scene with this lady and that lord.

Eventually, they reached a section Romano couldn’t quite recall, with overgrown roses, bluebells, lilies and other flowers Romano knew the garden wasn’t supposed to have, but Lady Natalya, ever unfazed, lead him to a small bench surrounded by cornflowers.

“Here, it is peaceful,” she said as Romano deliberated on how much space between them was appropriate. “The court is rather hectic, don’t you agree?”

Romano folded his hands in his lap and cleared his throat. “Perhaps. But it has its charms.”

“And you like being a knight for this court?”

He glanced at her. No one did ever ask a knight of his duty. It _was_ his duty after all, and Romano had sworn loyalty to his king and court.

She appeared to read his hesitation.

“I suppose it must have its charms,” she repeated him, but he was unsure whether she was teasing him. It intrigued him nonetheless.

“It does and it doesn’t.” He shrugged. Meeting her eyes boldly, he added, “Certainly it has its perks.”

“Perks,” she echoed.

Lady Natalya touched his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. For a moment, he believed her to want to kiss him, but he did not dare move himself lest he offend her with his presumptions.

“If you would allow me,” he began, but stopped as her hand trailed down to his collar.

“I will not. Not yet,” she said. “When you are worthy, you shall have me.”

She tied a cornflower to his sash as he asked for clarification, but none came. Delivering her final blow, she leaned in and whispered by his ear: “Good luck.”

Romano had truly never stood a chance.

***

That night, Romano tossed and turned until he settled in a fitful sleep. Images of cornflowers surrounding a lake, stars reflected on the deceitfully calm surface with lightning bugs dancing atop, filled his dreams. Lady Natalya’s words, her smooth, silver voice, echoed in his mind still as he awoke the next morning.

Worthiness. What, in her eyes, would be worthy? Surely not a knight who dutifully stood guard wherever the Captain of the Guards ordered him to.

Surely, she wished for an experienced, well-travelled, brave knight.

The sun had barely risen, but Romano knew he could not dawdle in the wake of his decision. He clasped on his armour and found the stash of gold he had squirrelled away for emergencies. It wasn’t until he had almost leaped out of the door that he realized his sword was missing.

After a thorough search, it became clear he had either tremendously misplaced it (even though he distinctly remembered perching it in his weapon stand the previous night) or it had been stolen. Both were unlikely, yet the reality was that he was particularly swordless for an endeavour he did absolutely require a sword for.

Well, he had no other choice but to swing by the village blacksmith before he would head out then. He had enough savings to invest and, hopefully, he could earn more gold by slaying foes for unprotected villages.

Decidedly, Romano left the castle, left the grounds, babbling a lie to the guards at the gate, and left his life behind with a confidence not entirely justified. Yet, he could still imagine the feeling of Lady Natalya’s lips against his ear, and the thought of earning her affections brought a spring into his step.

But as he made his way through the forest, unnaturally quiet for this time of morning, Romano slowed. Something called out to him, a small tug at his heart, from beyond the underbrush.

Pushing through, Romano followed after it, carefully yet resolutely, until he found himself on the grassy shores of a huge, sprawling lake, illuminated by the sun. As if a spell settled over his heart, he stared dully at his reflection, feeling a strange familiarity emanating from the water.

A pair of voices broke his trance, however, and he found his attention pulled to a couple stood in the green pasture beyond the forest edge.

Romano didn’t have to hear to know the man was making unwelcome advances toward the girl, his posture intimidating as he towered over her, whilst she continuously attempted to back away, only to come to an impasse at the lake’s shore. Romano didn’t have to see much more, nor did he have to think about what to do.

He followed the shore, jumped the pasture’s fence, and shouted, “Hey, you!” only to realize belatedly he was without weapon. Instead of fumbling over his potential hubris, Romano squared his shoulders and set on.

The man turned toward him, buff and tall with a nasty sneer on his face, but Romano had always prided himself in his speed and socked him in the jaw before the man could raise his defences. The man stumbled, thrown off-guard, but recovered remarkably fast and, as Romano positioned himself strategically between the man and the girl, hoping to give her an escape, he pulled a dagger from its sheath around his waist.

That might cause a bit of an issue.

Romano assessed his options. There weren’t many. He had no weaponry beside his fists and his cunning. But he refused to flee, both his pride and his honour appalled at the idea of leaving a poor girl undefended.

No. He had to stand his ground no matter what. Even if it were to cost him his very life.

The man came for him, but Romano predicted the wide arc of his arm, untrained but clearly intent on mauling him, and rolled out of range. He sprung to his feet quickly, blocked a punch, and twisted around the man, trying to find an opening to wrench the dagger from his opponent.

It came to him not much later, in the form of the man charging at him, dagger raised, and Romano manoeuvred under, tripping the man as he did. As the man fell to his knees harshly, Romano caught the arm with the dagger and twisted it. The man dropped his weapon with a pained groan, but before Romano could grab it, it rolled off the slope into the lake.

Romano, still keeping the man on his knees to keep him from trying anything funny, shook a little from the effort, but was unsure of how to proceed. He couldn’t exact punishment in name of the king because he had effectively renounced him, but he also couldn’t let the man go without any repercussions at all.

Glancing at the girl, as she should be the one in charge of the fate of her assailant (and would relieve Romano of the morality of his actions), he found she was no longer there. All that seemed to have remained of her was a rather wet patch of grass.

He blinked and, just like that, the man dissipated into a body of water. It splashed and surged toward Romano, who jumped back, only for the water to part when it reached him, leaving his boots dry.

The lake rippled and, as Romano glanced up from his bafflement, Lady Natalya emerged from it, dressed in a satin gown that appeared to be made of the water itself, shimmery and otherworldly.

“Perhaps not yet worthy,” she said, her voice echoing slightly, “but certainly on your way.”

“My lady?” Romano felt, rather funnily, out of his depth.

She walked to where the dagger had fallen and pulled, from the water itself, Romano’s sword, but as she offered it to him, he knew it had become more than just his sword.

He gazed into her eyes, still smooth as untouched water, still unyielding of its secrets, but no longer as cool as frost, and her amusement was clear.

The hilt of his sword was engraved with the image of a cornflower, and she touched the one still tied to his sash, its colour still as vibrant as her eyes.

She smiled. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“May your love be returned.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title translates to: The Romaunt of the Cornflower. It's a little joke on one of the most well-known works of courtly love.
> 
> Fun note on cornflowers: In folklore, cornflowers were worn by young men in love; if the flower faded too quickly, it was taken as a sign that the man's love was not returned. It's also a bit of a national flower in Belarus sooooo yeah.


End file.
